Zen in the Art of Archery - Eugen Herrigel [5]
The Master at first refused my request, saying that he had once been misguided enough to instruct a foreigner and had regretted the experience ever since. He was not prepared to make concessions a second time, in order to spare the pupil the burden of the peculiar spirit of this art. Only when I protested that a Master who took his job so seriously could well treat me as his youngest pupil, seeing that I wished to learn this art not for pleasure but for the sake of the “Great Doctrine”, did he accept me as his pupil, together with my wife, since it has long been customary in Japan for girls to be instructed in this art, and since the Master's wife and two daughters were diligent practitioners.
And so began the long and strenuous course of instruction, in which our friend Mr. Komachiya, who pleaded our cause so obstinately and almost stood guarantor for us, participated as interpreter. At the same time my good fortune in being invited to attend my wife's lessons in flower arrangement and painting held out the prospect of my winning a still broader basis of understanding through constant comparison of these mutually complementary arts.
III
That the way of the “artless art” is not easy to follow we were to learn during the very first lesson. The Master began by showing us various Japanese bows, explaining that their extraordinary elasticity was due to their peculiar construction and also to the material from which they are generally made, namely bamboo. But it seemed even more important to him that we should note the noble form which the bow—it is over six feet long— assumes as soon as it is strung, and which appears the more surprising the further the bow is drawn. When drawn to its full extent, the bow encloses the “All” in itself, explained the Master, and that is why it is important to learn how to draw it properly. Then he grasped the best and strongest of his bows and, standing in a ceremonious and dignified attitude, let the lightly drawn bowstring fly back several times. This produces a sharp crack mingled with a deep thrumming, which one never afterwards forgets when one has heard it only a few times: so strange is it, so thrillingly does it grip the heart. From ancient times it has been credited with the secret power of banishing evil spirits, and I can well believe that this interpretation has struck root in the whole Japanese people. After this significant introductory act of purification and consecration the Master commanded us to watch him closely. He placed, or “nocked”, an arrow on the string, drew the bow so far that I was afraid it would not stand up to the strain of embracing the All, and loosed the arrow. All this looked not only very beautiful, but quite effortless. He then gave us his instructions: “Now you do the same, but remember that archery is not meant to strengthen the muscles. When drawing the string you should not exert the full strength of your body, but must learn to let only your two hands do the work, while your arm and shoulder muscles remain relaxed, as though they looked on impassively. Only when you can do this will you have fulfilled one of the conditions that make the drawing and the shooting “spiritual”.” With these words he gripped my hands and slowly guided them through the phases of the movement which they would have to execute in the future, as if accustoming me to the feel of it.
Even at the first attempt with a medium-strong practice-bow I noticed that I had to use considerable force to bend it. This is because the Japanese bow, unlike the European sporting bow, is not held at shoulder level, in which position you can, as it were, press yourself into it. Rather, as soon as the arrow is nocked, the bow is held up with arms at nearly full stretch, so that the archer's hands are somewhere